killing a garden

Yesterday, the noise from the reno on Spruce Street was so unbearable, I went over to see what was going on. Are they building the @#$#@ Taj Mahal? There was a lone man, covered in stone dust, with a large machine, and I saw: the owners have a nice-sized south-facing backyard, and they have covered it entirely in dark grey slate. Slate slabs from one end to the other, the cutting of which is what I've been listening to all @#$#@ summer. But, said the nice old man who barely spoke English and could barely see out of his dusty eyeglasses, the slate cutting is nearly done. Today, a radio blaring as more work continues, but only hammering and shouting.

I am just glad that Dorothy, my British gardening guru who lived on Spruce two houses east, who inspired me, a total non-gardener, to get started here, who had made her own south- facing yard a gorgeous lush oasis of scent and bloom, is not alive to see - and hear - this. She'd be apoplectic.

Last night, over to Lynn's in Forest Hill, to her sublime pool like a lake - we support ourselves on pool noodles as we float up and down, jabbering the while. And then dinner in her garden, with a beautiful rosé she'd been saving for my birthday, and fresh corn. Happiness is.

But our neighbours to the south are more murderously insane than ever. Here, on the subway yesterday, almost every single person I could see was in the mandatory mask, and the new leader of the Cons, who courted the social conservatives to win, has just said he's pro-choice. More grateful than ever that my father left New York for a life in Canada.

Today, more taping at the studio. Two weeks till launch! Much planning to do.

Some random photographs that make me - and I hope you - glad.

At Ruth's, dining in the drizzle

Happy muddy boys at low tide in Nova Scotia - check out the lower half -

 From the beginning to the end, in only six years - incredible how far they went, how much they changed -

The very beginning! Babies. With Stu and Pete Best.

And so, on into Wednesday - right now, Gina's line dancing class.